


NOIR

by pterodactuality



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Film Noir AU, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of Murder, Multi, trans headcanons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterodactuality/pseuds/pterodactuality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane Crocker had wanted to be a detective since before she could hold a magnifying glass. After two years of low-level cases, Jane prays for something interesting to knock on the doors of her small private investigation office. So when a murder case drops in her lap that could spark a mob war that would bring chaos to the streets of Seattle, it's an offer she can't refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> There are no graphic depictions of violence in this chapter. While the story itself is mine, all Homestuck characters belong to Andrew Hussie. A special thanks to my beta reader, Shock. No one is a better motivator than you.

# 

Rain beat down on the window outside the dimly lit office. Jane Crocker could appreciate the ambiance as it made her late nights feel more dramatic, despite the fact that no one in their right mind would describe a rainy night in Seattle as anything but common. Jane had always hoped for the events she had seen in films; she would sit in her office, smoking a cigar and monologuing appropriately, as a silhouetted figure would knock on her door and ask for her assistance in a thrilling case too intricate for the boys in blue. However, she became a private investigator two years ago and had yet to encounter anything much more exciting than tracking down cheating spouses. Jane gave her notes on the latest unfaithful scumbag a final glance before leaning back in her chair and silently begging for a case where more than a pre-nup was at risk.

Lightning cracked, illuminating the room and revealing a figure at her door, and the thunder that followed nearly drowned out the tentative knock that followed. Jane bolted up in her seat and beckoned the figure in. A smooth baritone responded as a tall Sea-Troll stepped into what little light Jane’s desk lamp provided.

“Jane Crocker? There’s been a murder and I need your assistance.”

\--

 _The Beforus Lounge_ had long been one of the few popular Troll hot-spots in Seattle. It had been established in the late 1920’s out of an abandoned warehouse and twenty years later it was still standing as a familiar part of the community. Its success was in part due to the strong mob ties nearly every employee and performer had. It catered to a few members of local mobs such as the Midnight Crew and the Felt, though bar-fights were inevitable when they both were present. However, its primary clientele consisted of members of the Troll-only mafia, the Ancestors. The Ancestors was Seattle’s oldest organized crime group, forming only a few short years after the Alternian Empire sought refuge on Earth. 

There was very little known about the Ancestors themselves, much to Jane’s frustration. Walking into a situation unprepared could have disastrous consequences, yet as Jane walked toward the gaudy, fuchsia metal doors of the lounge she didn’t know much past the basic pedestrian knowledge she had begun with. Jane grit her teeth and pushed her hands further into the pockets of her trench coat. While she had been to the seedier parts of town on stake-outs, a mob bar was miles apart from sitting in a cheap motel parking lot. She glanced at her watch, flinching as the cold winter air hit her palms. Jane was nearly twenty-five minutes early, this gave her time to learn her surroundings in case this turned out to be more dangerous than she had originally thought. 

Jane turned the heavy, slightly rusted handle and slipped inside, hoping that she didn’t catch anyone’s attention. The interior was a stark contrast to the weatherworn metal plating that covered the old warehouse. The lounge was lushly decorated with red-velvet padded walls, a fully stocked bar, and a very well maintained stage and dance floor. Jane slunk past several trolls whose outfits could be only described as meeting the bare minimums of public decency. She nearly bumped into a young human woman on the arm of a handsome older troll. The woman gave her a look that she was all too familiar with, though she received it less once she moved into a troll neighborhood, the scars of the second Great War left their mark and Jane, despite being Vietnamese-Filipina, was still seen as “the Enemy”. Jane rolled her eyes at the woman as she passed and chose a stool at the edge of the bar that provided her with a full-view of the stage as well as a majority of the lounge itself. 

Jane looked around hoping to spot her client whom had only left her with a time and place to meet him before quickly exiting, asking her to keep his presence in her office a secret. Jane huffed. She wasn’t entirely sure whom he thought she was going to tell, as he hadn’t even left his name. 

The lights dimmed and Jane’s attention was brought to the stage as a spotlight illuminated the front microphone stand. Jane startled a bit as her client took the stage. He was wearing a three-piece suit with his pitch-black hair slicked black past his wavy horns. He caressed the microphone as he crooned the opening lines to Frank Sinatra’s “All or Nothing at All”, the gills on his neck shuddering slightly as he breathed in. Jane felt his rich, baritone wash over her. There was nothing more she wanted than to close her eyes and get lost in the music. She told herself she was staying alert as a good detective should, however a small part of her had trouble tearing her gaze away from the way his dark lashes hooded over his deep purple irises, and the way his teeth, not unlike a shark’s in appearance, flashed into her view as he belted out a few embellishments to the famous song. He was mesmerizing to watch and she wondered how he had existed off a stage. He had seemed ordinary, if not suspicious and slightly off-putting, when she had encountered him in her office. 

Jane quickly turned back to the bartender and ordered a glass of water, she had sworn off all alcohol in solidarity when her friend, and roommate, Roxy, decided it was high time she sobered up. Jane stared the glass for the rest of the set, willing herself not to look at her client. 

When the music had stopped and a short, angry troll in a knit sweater announced the next act as well as grumbled angrily at some trolls who had been using some rather “abusive language”, Jane had finished off her water and had begun attempting to balance the free bar peanuts on top of each other. 

“I was that boring, huh?” her client said as he slid into the chair next to her. Jane let out a surprised gasp and the small tower of peanuts toppled and scattered across the small section of the bar she had been occupying. 

“No! Not at all!” Jane professed. 

“It’s fine, lounge music isn’t for everyone.” He gave her a shark-tooth grin. She decided to allow him to assume her disinterest, as it was far less embarrassing to admit than ‘avoiding becoming entranced’. She composed herself and glanced over his features in the dim light. He was now wearing a pair of rimmed glasses and had an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. The scar on his forehead, that looked like two waves, was more visible up close.

“Aren’t you going to light that?” Jane gestured to the cigarette.

“It’s just for show, doll. Smoke hurts my gills.”

“That’s a bit…” she decided against telling him how foolish that sounded, as she had an air of professionalism to uphold and he _was_ paying her. “Don’t call me doll.” He laughed and stood up. 

“Well then,” he glanced down at her left hand and then gave her a predatory smile, “ Miss Crocker. I believe we have some business to attend to, if you’ll follow me to the back.” He had a slight stutter over his v’s and w’s and appeared to include both consonants whenever any of the two appeared. It really lessened any intimidating aura he could have given off, in Jane’s opinion. Jane didn’t get up from her seat. 

“It’s rude not to introduce oneself,” Jane stated in her best impression of her client’s aloof, and more than somewhat arrogant, tone. “Especially if you’re asking me to follow you into a back room to help you solve a mur-“

She was cut off by a harsh look from her client. “Not here,” he nearly growled, “it’s not safe.” 

“Fine. But I still want to know who I’m working for.” Jane was not one to be intimidated. She had worked hard to gain respect in her field and she wasn’t about to allow herself to be kept in the dark with only the promise of an intriguing case. If she didn’t establish that she needed to be given all the available information now, she could be denied important details about the case. She remained sitting and raised her eyebrows at the sea-troll. 

“My name is Cronus Ampora.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake. She gave it a quick shake and used her grip to pull herself off the barstool. 

 

“Alright, now we can discuss our business,” Jane gave him her most saccharine smile, trying her best to look like this wasn’t her first real case, or as if the prospect of a murder investigation excited her, “lead the way, Mr. Ampora.”


	2. Murder, my Sweet

            Jane had tried so hard to keep up the charade of the confident and unflappable private investigator, but she had never seen a dead body in person before. The troll was severed in half, his purple blood darkening his suit and staining the carpet below. His eyes were blown open in fear, unblinking. Jane could see where his intestines had ruptured and the spine had partially separated, only a few strands of muscle hinting at where it connected. His limbs splayed out at awkward angles, he was dead before he hit the ground, cut open where he stood, like meat hanging before a butcher. Jane took a deep breath and examined the troll’s features. The troll’s horns matched Cronus’s as well as the astrological sign each wore on their lapel. Jane turned to Cronus who was looking on at the mutilated corpse with a hard gaze, jaw tight. His fists were clenched at his side as he shifted focus and stared past the broken troll before him.

            “Was he family?” Jane’s voice softened. She caught herself belatedly, remembering that trolls didn’t have family structures like humans. Stupid, stupid question.

            “Yes. My brother.” Cronus intoned in a near whisper. Jane looked at him in surprise.  “It didn’t mean much to him, he was very traditional, but I always considered him the way humans do their hatchmates. His name was Eridan.” Jane cleared her throat and straightened herself up. She was a professional, and she could do this.

            “This is how he was found?” Jane hoped it was as she had a better chance of finding viable evidence, but she also hoped he hadn’t been left here for days. The smell of blood and flesh filled the room, it was overpowering already. Jane took another deep breath only to have it permeate her lungs further.

            “Yes. Trolls decay much slower than humans so there won’t be much decomposition. We found him here the night before yesterday around 2 AM. We’ve kept this room sealed off since he was found. He had this under his tongue.” Cronus handed the investigator a small bag, Jane pulled a pair of tweezers from her pocket and lifted up the item in question. It was a playing card, the Jack of Spades, which had been folded into four. There was some damage to the card from the deceased troll’s saliva. Jane gave Cronus a puzzled look.

            “Spades… I don’t mean to be rude, Ampora, but every species in Seattle knows that’s Spades Slick’s calling card. It doesn’t warrant you hiring a P.I. to figure out this was a Midnight Crew hit.”

            Cronus spun around to face her head on. “But, that’s just it! It wasn’t Slick, he uses the aces or numbers, if the victim is part of a series of threats, he _never_  uses face cards. So why would he now? We have no grudge with the Midnight Crew, they’ve always been at war with the Felt. There’s no reason for them to put a hit on my brother.” Jane backed up from the sudden stream of words that tumbled out of the troll’s mouth. Cronus paused and composed himself. “At least help me investigate further. I know it wasn’t Slick.”

           “Alright, I’ll continue the investigation. But I think we should start with the Midnight Crew, if it isn’t Slick himself then someone is trying to frame him,” Jane turned from the body. While decomposition was minimal the stench of blood still hung heavy in the air. “Do Midnight Crew members come her often?”

             “Just Diamonds Droog and sometimes Clubs Deuce but less often recently,” Cronus turned from his brother’s body as well, lingering on his face, his eyes were still wide open in terror, and his mouth in a snarl. “We’ve never had any trouble though, they usually just have a few drinks and leave. Only one we’ve had issues with is Snowman and she only came in once. She’s technically Felt now, but who knows where her loyalties lie. Just a hired gun.”

             “I don’t suppose we can just ask Spades if he’s responsible, so I’m going to call in a friend. Her name is Roxy, she works as a medical examiner but she owes me a few favors,” Jane does not mention that it’s for picking her up on her bad days and helping her through AA. “Just don’t let her order any booze when she’s here.”

             “Someone who hangs around dead bodies and doesn’t drink? Sounds like a real peach.” Cronus joked, his hand landing on her shoulder, “No offense, doll, but I’m pretty sure being cut in half was the cause of death.”

             “She can tell us more, like what weapon was used.” Jane bristled, this guy was starting to get annoying, dead brother or not. “And don’t call me ‘doll’. I’m an investigator not some pretty plaything.” She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. She shivered slightly when it brushed the skin near her collar as his hand fell back to his sides. His hand was much colder than any human or low-blood she had come across. They learned about the low body temperatures of sea-dwellers but to feel it in person was very different.

             “Sure thing. I’m going to have to approve another person coming in though. Meenah wants to keep things under wraps. We can’t really afford a gang war if someone decides to retaliate against the Midnight Crew. There’s only four of them but they have dozens of carapacians who are willing to do their dirty work in exchange for protection.”

             “I understand. I’ll definitely keep it quiet, after all, that’s why you came to me and not the police.” Jane didn’t need to mention that it was also for her own safety. While the Ancestors weren’t confirmed to be responsible for much more than fostering quite a few gambling addictions and having more than a few loan sharks in their midst there was still quite some speculation about some of their debtors disappearing. There was no doubt that there were enemies of the small crime ring and they wouldn’t be too pleased that someone was looking into a hit, especially if they were responsible. Cronus began walking to the door that separated his brother’s body from the rest of the lounge, Jane followed behind jotting down a reminder in her notepad to call Roxy. As they reached the door Cronus paused to take one more look at his brother. Jane could see the pain on his face. Annoying as he was, it was still hard to lose a close family member.

             “Hey,” Jane said quietly, “I had a younger brother too. He’s still alive but he got involved in something. I don’t know what it was or why but he disappeared one day. I’ll still get postcards from him from all sorts of places. But I can still feel that gap in my life where he used to be. It’s hard, when someone isn’t around anymore.” Jane touched her hand to his forearm; his eyes were still fixated on Eridan’s body. “We’re going to catch whoever did this.” Cronus nodded and looked away from his brother.

             “Thank you, Jane,” He took her hand and wove it through his arm to rest in the crook of his elbow. “Let me walk you home. It’s late.”

             “Oh, I’m perfectly fi-“ she began to protest, but remembered the time and what neighborhood she was in. The warehouse district was not the safest place to be at night, for humans or trolls. “Alright, Mr. Ampora.”

             “Please, call me Cronus,” he smiled half-heartedly, the image of Eridan’s lifeless body still in his head. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is sort of short but I just had to finally post something. I wanted to make it a bit longer but I could only deal with Eridan's body for so long. And the walk home just seemed like it should be another chapter. I promise the romance will pick up eventually lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this chapter is rather short, mostly because it was a good breaking point and the next chapter is much longer, since we get to talk about MURDER UwU. Michael Buble is my Cronus headcanon voice, so I very much enjoy making him sing. I'm hoping to be updating this on a monthly basis, give or take a few days. Hope you enjoy it so far! Also each chapter title is the name of a popular film noir movie, if you have any favorites you want to have a chapter named after feel free to suggest them. 
> 
> (Also, while completely optional I'll probably be posting art, sketches, and any side-stories/progress notes on my tumblr. So if you want some extra goodies as well as a heaping ton of Night Vale postings you can follow me. pterodactuality.tumblr.com )


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